An Incessant Pursuit

In a farland I stood there Humming my own songs, playing by my own Until someone came and whispered back my songs Making them complete, articulate and sweet I searched for this soul with this baritone voice Only to find a man so handsome He was God’s spirit everywhere, and was stronger than the ages The angels of love floated about, singing the praise of the soul’s deed We came close sheltering ourselves from humanity As if hiding ourselves within ourselves, Him fondling my face gently And tears coursing down my cheeks “We must now part my beloved Love hasn’t chosen me her delegate, and cupid doesn’t favour me But do stay awake in the silence of the night Let the clean breeze carry your love and affection I shall now separate and  go back to the farland Hum my own songs, play by my own”. So here I leave a life behind Secret angels carry me his complaints As the spirits in the air sense the breath of this dying youth. Alone I walk again, far b

जीवन मे लाख गलतियाँ है मैने की, इन ममता भरी आँखों मे आँसू, है मैने दिए, पर तूने गले लगाकर मुझे हमेशा माफ किया, राह पर डटे रहकर मंजिल को हासिल करना है सिखाया। हैरान हूँ मै एसी निष्ठा और करुणा भाव देखकर, कैसे कोई खुश रह सकता है इतना सहकर, छमा माँगती हूँ मै, हाथ जोङकर तेरे नरम दिल से, भर दे मुझे भी तेरे लाड और प्यार से। हजारो दुखङे तूने मेरे सुने, उलझने मेरी तूने सुलझाई, कभी अपने गम भी तो बयाँ कर, वो सुनहरा गीत गाकर हमे आशान्वित कर, उस बंद बक्से मे दबी आशाओं को उजागर कर। हमारे गम मे रोने वाला, हमारी खुशियो मे हँसने वाला, एक सुंदर चेहरा, सारे जहाँ से निराला, हे ईश्वर! जीवन मे कभी कुछ दे न दे, यह माँ का साया कभी न हटने देना। बहुत एहसान है तेरे मुझ पर, सोचती हूँ क्या कभी चुका पाऊँगी, गनीमत होगी उस खुदा की अगर, तेरा एक भी ख्वाब मै हकीकत मे बदल पाऊँगी।

“...dusk is the time when men whisper of matters about which they remain silent in the full light of the sun.”  ―  Simon Raven #photography

A muted cry amid her umbra fears No one to lean on, no one to hear; The purple prose of her life dissipated Darkness, cold and anxiety congregated. Sinking deep down a bottomless gulf, an abyss Unaccompanied, she lay in this extensive metropolis; Musing over the Gordian knot, she mystifies Grabs a pen, a notepad, hesitates a second and writes. As the ink spreads over the piece of paper She gets a breakthrough, and becomes a spellbound creator; She goes ahead seeking an evasion from these filthy cages To a kingdom of quietude, she has longed for ages. In times of bliss or gloom, be it felicity or blues She has stood by her own, not one of those stereotypical hues; As she spills her soul out onto the textured canvas Desolation has ceased to exist, warm fuzzies are now her focus. This mighty pen taught her magic and wonder Revealed heavenly secrets that the tongue could never utter; She now pioneers an indelible odyssey Uninfluenced, unperturbed, sproutin

“Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is either above the horizon or below it. And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are there cannot be one without the other yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel I remember wondering to be always together yet forever apart?”  ―   Nicholas Sparks ,  The Notebook #photography